


Blue Eyes and Dyed Hair

by Sagaba



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:37:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4319793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagaba/pseuds/Sagaba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>fluffffffff</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Eyes and Dyed Hair

**Author's Note:**

> (gay)  
> i'm sorry i had no clue what to write but i really wanted to write something

The world became silent as it went dark. Though the sunset must have taken at least an hour, their minds had stopped focusing and the night seemed to fall in a single, relaxed breath. Chloe lay with Max in the back of an old pickup, grime in their hair and the stars in their faces. The sounds of town and clamour of traffic were lost with the light pollution of the city, miles and miles away.

  
Chloe's fingers played softly over Max's arm, tracing the line of her bone and feeling the faintly prominent vein on her wrist. Gently, she took a hold of her hand and softly interlaced their fingers. The stars were so bright.

  
"It must be the city," Max eventually murmured. "I don't think I've been this far out of the city in years."  
Chloe made a small noise in return. Neither of them felt normal, and the normal rapidity that filled their conversations would have felt awkward, strange in this place. The air itself seemed to deny any attempts at their usual jokes and endearing insults - instead a certain feeling of peace had at some point fallen over them.

  
" Yeah...", Chloe eventually responded. The interceding silence could have been a second or an hour, and neither of them felt the difference. "It's kind of..." Her voice slipped into nothing. She couldn't find a word to describe how they felt in that instant, but Max knew what she meant. It wouldn't surprise her if Max had a word for this, either. She'd always known the right way to talk about instants in that way. "It's...nice." Chloe smiled gently. Max's fingers were soft.

  
Another silence took hold. Max felt overwhelmed by the feeling of the instant. The night sky seemed infinite. Beautiful, static stars sprawling as far as she could see. Everything in this instant just seemed blindly perfect. The ancient dirt in the corners and seams of the truckbed, the summer warmth in the air, and the gentle wind that seemed to toy with Chloe's long bangs. She found her head on its side, staring at the still life in Chloe's face.

  
Chloe, too, turned her head. Max's blue eyes seemed to shimmer, even in this darkness. She found that gentle smile creeping back over her face, and over Max's in return. They were about a body’s width apart, but she felt like she could be no closer to Max than in this instant. Their eyes had met, and their gaze had been locked together for an indescribably long instant. Chloe felt like she had to do something, find some way to convey the feeling of this instant to Max, even though she was absolutely sure she felt the same motionless energy, passion.

  
Max spoke first, though. “I love you, Chloe.” Chloe knew the usual tremors, pauses and uncertainties in everything Max said, and felt them absent. The words felt like they’d come from a different part of her, somewhere private, precious.

  
“I love you too, Max.” The words came effortlessly, and she knew they were true. The both of them had had relationships over the years, dated boys (and in Chloe’s case, girls), traded lustful and thoughtless ‘I love you’s, made empty promises out of lust, and it was this that made the moment now all the more honest. The stirring in their chests felt new and familiar in the same instant, a fact of both of their lives as static as the boundless ocean.

  
Chloe’s hair was blonde, dyed blue, and Max’s was brown as autumn. They both had blue eyes. Max hated coffee, but sometimes enjoyed a cup of green tea on cold mornings. Chloe loved the feeling of holding a novel, but never actually read. Sometimes Chloe felt that she hated her name and the different person it seemed to describe, but Max would always hear Chloe and be reminded of the thirteen year old girl who snuck out the window to comfort her when her grandmother died. Chloe had always been jealous of the beautiful, thoughtless grace in Max’s movements when she danced.

  
“I always have.” And she was sure of it.


End file.
